


Our souls lie down in the grass

by sdwolfpup



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Space, F/M, Happy Ending, Mild Angst, No Twincest, Solarpunk, once again i am asking how did this happen, the science in this is sketchy at BEST, we're using arthur clarke's third law excessively here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:15:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup
Summary: Three hundred years ago, the Great Houses built spaceships, abandoning everyone else to the world's decades-long seasons, never expecting the remaining humans to survive. Those left behind – the earthers, as they came to be called – raced to the edge of extinction and then pulled themselves back, working together with the earth until the seasons settled into the manageable, months-long cycles they should have been all along.Now, generations out from the ships' departures, the Lost Ones have come back, looking for safe haven. In order to stay, they must first spend a year with an earther family on the planet, before deciding whether to remain or leave again, this time forever. Brienne Tarth and her father are one of many to take in a family of Lost Ones to live with them for the year.Their assigned family? The Lannisters.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 56
Kudos: 98
Collections: JB Festive Festival Exchange Stocking Stuffers 2020





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auntie_social](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntie_social/gifts).



> I was pondering stocking stuffers prompts when I saw im-auntie-social's prompt of 'Solarpunk.' Curious, I looked into it more, and the latent part of my brain that dozes most of the time and then awakes every once in awhile with a world in its teeth woke up with this. It's much longer than a stocking stuffer should be, and I'm actually still writing my primary 100k+ WIP at the same time, so, Auntie: here is part one of what should be a six-part story; the rest will be posted on an every-few-weeks schedule. Thank you for your patience while I get all this written. Thank you for your spreadsheeting for the Festive Fest! I very sincerely hope you enjoy the story! 
> 
> Title and opening quote from a Rumi poem. Un-beta'd, although Forbiddenfantasies has been a world-class cheerleader, as always.

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing  
and rightdoing there is a field.  
I’ll meet you there.  
When the soul lies down in that grass  
the world is too full to talk about.”  
-Rumi 

Space had never frightened Brienne. To her, the stars were bright pinpoints of potential worlds, of infinite dreams. She never felt resentful of what the universe had taken, she never felt afraid of what might be found. Even as a young girl, she stayed up too late and studied the skies, and wondered.

Eleven years old and out far past her bedtime, she had snuck away from her home to one of the nearby meadows, her beloved telescope – a gift from her mother shortly before she'd died – tucked under her arm. It was a cold, clear night, the end of winter, and two planets were coming into conjunction; she wanted to see them spread out in the open sky, not obstructed by trees or the low buildings of her living zone. 

She'd just gotten the telescope focus correct when she heard voices – hushed at first, but quickly growing louder. 

“We'll show you,” were the first words she made out clearly, and she stood, scanning the area. 

“No, please,” a scared-sounding voice replied. “I'm sorry!” 

There was a meaty sound, flesh striking flesh, several times in quick succession, and her heart jumped in her chest, galloping wildly. “Hello?” she called out. “Who's there?” 

The sounds stopped, and then three figures formed out of the darkness. There was no moon tonight; earlier she'd been grateful for it in order to see the stars more clearly, but she would have welcomed it now. 

She recognized who they were immediately anyway – and her stomach flipped over in despair. 

“If it isn't the Beauty,” the tallest one said. He was a few years older than her, but they were of a height. 

“Ron,” she said hesitantly. “What are you doing out here?”

“I would ask the same about you, but I assume you're trying to find your alien family.”

Brienne ducked her head, and then heard moaning. She tried to peer into the dark, thought she might have seen something moving on the ground. “Why don't you just go home, Ron?”

“I haven't finished my business,” he said. “Why don't you mind yours?”

Her hands curled into fists at her side. She'd been taking her YiTish fighting arts lessons for a few years now, and felt confident she knew enough to protect herself from one boy, but all three at once would be a struggle. Her instructor, Master Pol, preached fighting only as a last resort, when diplomacy and retreat were not available. Brienne could have left, but there was some poor soul in the darkness there, and she couldn't leave them behind. 

“This _is_ my business,” Brienne said, and Ron sneered. It wavered some when she dropped into first form, ready. She wished her feet were bare, that she could feel the ground with her toes and dig in, but it had been too cold to leave her home without shoes. 

“The problem with you, Beauty, is you're so big you're always getting into things you shouldn't.” He cracked his knuckles, and Brienne inhaled slowly, centering herself. _Ron first_ , she decided. He was their leader; if she could get him down quickly, the other two were cowards. 

A dog barked somewhere nearby, and Ron's head turned slightly that way. He looked relieved. “You'll wake everyone if we take care of you like you deserve, and we don't want that. Guess you got lucky, Beauty.” Ron spit on the ground between them, and then tapped the two boys with him on their shoulders. “Go see to your boyfriend. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to discover who rescued him.” 

The three boys faded back into the darkness, and Brienne hurried to the shadow still trying to crawl to safety. 

“Hold on,” she called out softly. “Let me help you.” 

The boy groaned. “I don't need your help.” As she neared, she saw it was Baldric Caron. “Leave me alone.” 

“Don't be silly, you're injured. I can help you.” 

“I don't need help from the Beauty,” he hissed. “It's bad enough you stopped Ron. It was nothing.” He tried to get to his feet, one arm clutched around his stomach, and then fell back to one knee. When he looked up at her, his face was pale with pain, a glimmer in the darkness. 

“Let me help you back to your home,” she said. “It's late, and there's no light. No one will see.” 

Baldric swallowed and then nodded, and she helped him up, taking most of his weight. It was little trouble; he was a slender, smaller boy, always sickly, quiet and reserved. She couldn't imagine what he'd done to invoke Ron's ire, although Ron was generally quick to anger and ready to take it out on the weakest among them. Their community revered inclusion and tolerance, but there were still shadows that the light couldn't reach, and in those shadows were Ron and his like. Baldric shivered against her as they walked slowly back to his home. 

“What were you doing out here?” he asked as they shuffled back. 

“Looking at the stars.” 

“Why? What's so interesting about little lights?” 

She smiled into the dark. They were near the living zone, and she knew Baldric's home was close. Before Brienne's mother had died, their moms had forced them to have playdates together so the women could talk. “They're not just lights. They're... possibility.”

“Possibility for what?”

Brienne didn't know how to answer that; the truth was, it was mostly the possibility for some amorphous _more_. She shrugged. “I'll know it when I see it,” she told him. “Why did Ron have you out here?” 

Baldric's thin shoulders slumped under her arm. “He wanted me to do his part of our group project and I told him no.” 

“You did the right thing,” she assured him. 

“My ribs don't think so.” But he didn't sound as upset as he had been a moment before. 

When she deposited him near his door, he couldn't quite meet her eyes. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled. “You're not so bad, Brienne.” 

She smiled, a tremulous thing. “You're welcome. Try to stay out of Ron's way for a few days. He'll find someone new to latch onto. He always does.” 

Brienne left Baldric there with a small wave and rushed back to the field, hoping to catch the planets before she crept back into bed. But by the time she arrived, it didn't matter anyway – her telescope lay strewn in pieces in the grass, destroyed.

* * *

**Ten Years Later**

The sound of her father's emergency commpad signal rang insistently through the house, yanking Brienne back from the edge of sleep. She'd only just gotten to bed; she'd been up late working with her father on reviewing the community's resources for the coming winter.

“Hello?” her father said, his deep voice rumbling down the hallway. “What is it?” There was a pause, a response that didn't carry as well, and then her father asked, “Are you _sure_?” 

Brienne left her room, finding him in their central living space. He was standing in the middle of it, staring at the commpad screen, one of the other Stewards from the mainland staring back. 

“It's them,” the woman said. “The Lost Ones have returned.” 

Her father sat, slowly, on the nearest chair, one hand clamped over his mouth. Brienne ran to the window and peered up into the dark sky, as though she could see their ships from here. All that peered back were the silent stars.

* * *

In truth, the Lost Ones were never really _lost_. Three centuries ago, as the world had suffered under yet another decades-long winter, those with the resources to do so had opted to build ships to search for a better planet, leaving the rest of humanity behind. Their seasons had been like this for as long as anyone knew, and though the humans had tried to bend the world to their whims, it had snapped instead, and those responsible had fled rather than try to piece it back together. 

Left alone with the consequences of others' failures, the remaining humans had fought each other mercilessly, had died in huge swaths, and then had gotten to work surviving. Ultimately, the abandoned humans had thrived. Instead of fighting against the world, they'd fought by its side, and the years-long seasons had been tamed. Relatively speaking. 

Now, generations out from the ships' departures, the Lost Ones had come home, looking for safe haven.

* * *

Brienne usually woke with the dawn each day. In the summer, it meant she was up early, stretching and watching the sun rise through the floor-to-ceiling windows in her bedroom, her feet and then her knees and then her stomach turning pink. In the winter, it meant late mornings that came on slow through gray skies changing from dark to light. She, like all earther children, had been taught how the seasons had once lasted years at a time, but she couldn't imagine it. The cycle of seasons as it was now felt right, just like her hands in loamy soil, or her head tilted back to taste the rain. 

She woke with the dawn, but today, Brienne was up when it was still dark out, too anxious and excited to have done more than doze fitfully through the night. Winter was almost over, and as she readied for the day, she could taste the promise of spring. Today was full of potential, though not just due to the weather. 

Because today was the day the Lost Ones were coming home. 

The Council of Stewards, of which Selwyn Tarth was a member on behalf of the Stormlands, had convened immediately after the initial contact, discussing and debating, forging agreements and fighting over decisions, until they settled on a plan. 

The first communications from the Lost Ones to the earthers had been tentative, almost apologetic for their ancestors' flight. The earthers' response had been, mostly, a cautious optimism. Enough time had passed that no one alive knew anyone who had known anyone who had been part of the initial split. But the Lost Ones had been in space for all that time, and no one knew what to expect once they arrived. 

One of Brienne's neighbors, Corenna Swann, was convinced they'd all be paler than Brienne, with giant eyes and tiny mouths and elongated bodies. 

“You've been reading alien sighting stories again, haven't you?” Brienne had asked her wryly once while the Council deliberations had continued. Corenna had only pursed her lips and turned away. But her neighbor hadn't been the only one who'd worried what the Lost Ones were like, how they'd react to being on land once more. 

The earther leaders eventually decided to accept the Lost Ones with restrictions: they must enter the solar system with their ships entirely disarmed and allow a crew of earthers to board and guide their ships into orbit; their families must be placed across the world at the earthers' discretion, where the Lost Ones would integrate into society instead of building an insular country for themselves; and they must, after a year, either swear to remain planet-side for the rest of their lives or board the ships and disappear forever. 

The Lost Ones had agreed with little pushback, the government had divvied them up as fairly as they could, and the earther crews were now, months after the first unexpected message, settling the Lost Ones' ships into orbit even as Brienne stared up at the slowly lightening sky. They'd be shuttled to quarantine zones initially, and then in two weeks, they'd scatter to their new homes, of which hers and her father's was one. Work was happening now to expand the living quarters of the selected host families to make room for the newcomers. 

It had been so quiet in their home for so long with just her and her father. And now there would be more people taking up their space – four more, to be precise – making eddies in the calm current of their lives. Brienne was used to navigating disturbances, she just hoped these weren't big enough to knock her off her feet.

* * *

As the daughter of the Steward of the Stormlands, Brienne was responsible for joining her father to greet the families that had been placed in the Tarth Protectorate where they lived. 

Two weeks after the Lost Ones' ships were placed in orbit, over a breakfast of cooked oats and defrosted berries, Brienne looked again at the photos and information about their fostered family on her lightpad. The Lannisters. A man and his three adult children, all coming to live with her and her father for the year. It seemed their father, Commander Tywin Lannister, was one of the leaders of the Lost Ones, which was why they'd been assigned to a Steward's family. The earthers felt it would ease them into this life if they could see how the Stewards led. Brienne thought it would have been better if they'd been sent to someone far from leadership, but it had been her father, not her, who'd been elected to his role and she had no say in the Steward Council's decisions. Someday she hoped to take his place, if she could be elected as he was. But for now, she was only a Steward's daughter. 

She'd looked through the photos repeatedly over the last few weeks, but she looked at them again now, one last time before they'd meet in person. They were not pale and unfortunate-looking at all. There was Tywin Lannister, bald everywhere except for golden side whiskers. A fierce, assessing stare that made Brienne uncomfortable even through the lightpad screen. His eldest child, Cersei Lannister, golden haired and gorgeous, smirking seductively at the viewer. Her twin brother, Jaime Lannister, also golden – also gorgeous – captured with an unhappy downward pull of his mouth on very pink lips. Brienne hurriedly moved on from his picture; she'd stared at it enough when they'd first been sent the photos that she was certain she could draw him from memory. The youngest, Tyrion Lannister, black and gold hair, mismatched eyes, a man with dwarfism, according to the brief paragraph of information that was provided on each. His unhappy look matched Jaime's almost perfectly. Tyrion was her age, but he looked much older. There was something to the way each Lannister lifted their chin with haughty certainty that Brienne was certain would be trouble. 

The alarm on her skinwatch beeped and she cleaned up her dishes, throwing her half-eaten breakfast in the compost. The Lost Ones were due to arrive at the Evenfall dock in an hour, and Brienne didn't want to be late to welcome them to their new home.

* * *

It was hot for a late winter day, and Brienne was already sweating when the transfer shuttle settled with a loud roar into the dock. Her father fidgeted next to her as the workers secured the ship, sprayed it down to cool it after its descent through the atmosphere. 

“You look nice,” she whispered to him, and he looked over at her. They were almost the same height, her father just slightly taller. He was in his official Steward robes, and perspiring heavily. 

“So do you,” he said. His lower voice still boomed a bit and the other foster families nearby glanced their way, waiting for a sign of what to do. 

Brienne looked down at her pale blue, loose-legged jumpsuit. It was one of the nicest things she owned, but it was still just a jumpsuit. She was about to protest when the shuttle door opened, and the first of the Lost Ones stepped out. 

It was Tywin Lannister, looking a little strained as he moved through the heavier gravity of earth. He scanned the crowd and found Selwyn quickly, and the two men walked towards each other as the other Lost Ones hovered at the shuttle door. 

“Welcome home,” her father said, bowing slightly, hands held palm up in front of him in the traditional greeting. Brienne had read people used to grasp forearms when they greeted each other, to check for weapons. This version had evolved after the Devastation, a sign that each person came empty-handed and in peace. Tywin returned it, though Brienne noticed he didn't bow. She frowned. 

“Thank you for taking us in,” Tywin said in a loud, rich voice. He looked startled by it, and cleared his throat. “We look forward to learning about your world.” 

“ _Our_ world,” Selwyn said, and Tywin gave an abrupt nod. “You'll have plenty of time for that. Come, let's get you and your families settled. Today is a day of rest. We're happy to have you here.” Selwyn clapped Tywin's shoulder, and the other man looked down at the meaty hand on his arm in surprise, but her father didn't even seem to notice. Instead, he peered past Tywin and a smile blossomed on his rugged features. “Come out into the sun, all of you! You picked a wonderful time to arrive.” 

The shuttle emptied, slowly at first, then in a rush, the other earther families crowding in to meet their assigned Lost Ones as well. It was a scene being repeated all over Westeros and Essos and Braavos and beyond, families spread to the far corners of the world, a coming together of earthers that hadn't happened since the Healing. Selwyn led Tywin and his children to where Brienne stood at the edge of the crowd, her hands clasped behind her back as she waited. 

“This is my daughter, Brienne,” Selwyn said proudly when they'd lined up in front of her as though she were performing an inspection. 

Brienne gave each of them the open-palmed greeting in turn. Tywin took her in with a raised brow and turned to speak to Selwyn almost immediately. Cersei gave her a thorough once over, smirking. Tyrion returned the greeting, a mischievous smile on his face. And Jaime wasn't even looking at her, staring instead back at the shuttle with that same unhappy look from his photo. All of them looked as human as she did.

“It's nice to meet you,” Brienne told them, though she directed it at Tyrion mostly, who nodded with surprising vigor. 

“Thank you for letting us stay.” There was a cheerful lilt to his voice, and Brienne turned all her attention to him, grateful. He gestured around with one short-fingered hand. “The sunlight is astonishing.” 

“You'll get used to it,” she said with a small smile. The Lost Ones had been in quarantine for two weeks, checked out thoroughly by the earther doctors and given a chance to acclimate to gravity and weather before being shuffled off to their new homes, but she knew it had rained nearly every day in King's Landing during that time. “You should watch out that you don't stay in it too long, though. We don't want you to burn.” 

“We have UV bays,” Jaime said, and Brienne's head snapped up to find him considering her. He was even more attractive in person, his hair and skin nearly shimmering with life; he looked like he'd been made for sunshine. “We have gravity, too, and water. We're not newborn babes.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. 

“I didn't know,” she said, flustered by his sharpness. 

“Ignore him,” Tyrion said, flicking an annoyed look at his brother. “He's cranky because he wanted to be next to fly the ship and now he's earthbound.” 

“Shut up,” Jaime growled. But he didn't deny it. 

“Maybe you could be a shuttle pilot,” Brienne said, indicating the two women who'd flown him here. 

Jaime scoffed. “Yes, just as good as commanding a spaceship that's crossed _galaxies_.”

“I'm just trying to help,” Brienne snapped. 

“You earthers love to help, don't you? Letting us in, giving us homes and food. So _kind_.”

Brienne had never heard that word spoken like a curse before. “You don't have to stay,” she reminded him. “Any Lost One who doesn't wish to integrate is free to go and never return.” 

“After a _year_ ,” Jaime said. “No one's allowed back on the ships before that. I'm half-expecting them to all be dismantled by the end of the day.” 

Brienne gasped. “We wouldn't do that. We signed an agreement with you.” 

“Mm, yes, agreements. So reliable.” 

“They are here,” she said fiercely. “We earthers aren't like you Lost Ones. We're not the ones who abandoned humanity to devour itself.” 

“Brienne,” her father said sharply. She instantly pulled back, not even realizing she'd been leaning towards Jaime in her anger. “That's enough.” 

“But he--”

“ _Enough_ ,” he repeated. “These are our guests, and they're going through a tremendous change. We'll treat them courteously.” She was twenty-one, but she felt like he'd stripped fifteen years off of her with that one reprimand. 

She glanced at Jaime, and he had the gall to smirk back at her. She clamped her lips together and turned her back on them. “Follow me,” she said, biting off each word as though if she lingered on them they'd turn to shouting. “We'll take the sunrail home.” 

Brienne didn't wait to see if they listened to her.

* * *

The sunrail was, as with everything on earth, a marvel of green engineering. Solar-powered and nearly emission-free, winding throughout Tarth at enough stops that almost everyone could use it, and those who couldn't had been provided accommodations to get them around, too. It was free for use, paid for through the energy it produced for the community. After the Devastation, the humans that had survived had taken to heart the creed of “if any of us is left behind, all of us are,” and it suffused every part of their lives now. Sunrails were just one of the commonalities between the regions of the world, and hundreds of agreements were in place binding far flung lands to each other in times of need. Few had tested those agreements in the many years since they were signed, but their very presence had periodically brokered peace. 

Selwyn explained all of that to the Lannisters and the other Lost Ones and earthers on the sunrail with them. Her father had the perfect voice and temperament for being a Steward of the earth, patient and thoughtful, slow in his decision-making, but determined once the decision had been made. He talked easily to everyone, whether one person or one thousand. Brienne tried to emulate him, but she had not been made from the same stuff he had and she struggled with her temper, with her desire for action over talking, which she'd never been much good at, much to Master Pol's eternal consternation. She was not reckless for no reason, but when something was wrong, she chafed at all the talking that usually happened before it could be fixed. 

Even the decision to take in the Lost Ones had taken too long in her opinion. She still wasn't sure if it was the right one; and every time she glanced at the Lannisters, she grew less confident of it. 

Tyrion was hanging rapt on her father's words, asking question after question about how things worked. Tywin was paying close attention, too, though he remained silent. Cersei and Jaime sat across from Brienne, not listening at all. Cersei was too busy examining all the people in the sunrail with them, occasionally leaning over to whisper something to her twin. Jaime had his arms crossed over his chest, his legs stretched too far out into the middle of the aisle, and was glaring sullenly out the window. Brienne thought he occasionally made a noise to agree or disagree with whatever Cersei said, but he seemed like he'd rather be anywhere than shoved up next to her, listening to her opinions. 

“Brienne,” Cersei said when she'd finally made the circuit of the sunrail car. “Have you ever been to space?” 

Jaime did focus, then, right on her. She felt her cheeks heat. “No, not beyond the suborbitals for travel.”

“Isn't that quaint,” Cersei purred. “It's remarkable to me that you earthers have the capability for spacefaring but you never use it. What a droll life.” 

“We're happy here,” Brienne said defensively. “Where we can feel the sun and the rain.” For all her lifelong fascination with the stars, Brienne couldn't imagine having known only the cold walls of a ship her whole life. Never running barefoot through a meadow, never getting soaked by the spray of a waterfall? It sounded terrible – a sterile and unhappy life. 

“That's a very romantic view of things. I found the rain mostly just made me cold and wet.” 

“King's Landing rain is like that. Tarth rain is better,” Brienne explained. 

“You don't have the same type of rain?” Tyrion asked, all curiosity. 

“Oh, no. The climate is different all over the planet, depending on where you are. The seasons, too. We're heading into spring now, but on the opposite side of the world, they're going into fall.” 

“Remarkable,” Tyrion breathed. “We don't have seasons on the ships, but as I recall from the materials you earthers provided, you have four of them?” 

“Yes, and you'll get to experience them all in the year you're here.” She glanced at Jaime, but he was back to glaring at unseen enemies outside. Cersei was watching her carefully, though. “Spring is our planting season. When everything is just starting to grow. I can show you around our gardens, if you'd like.” 

“I'd love to,” Tyrion said quickly. “Though, I'm still struggling with moving around. My legs are less appropriate for earth gravity than most.” 

“That's no problem,” Brienne assured him. “We have a hoverchair you can take anywhere. Every building has been designed to accommodate them.” 

Tyrion looked floored by that news. “That's... that would be wonderful.” 

“I appreciate your eagerness, daughter,” her dad gently said from a few feet away, “but we should let the Lost Ones rest today. Give them a chance to get the lay of the land at their new homes, and some time to themselves. You'll each have your own spaces. They're not terribly big, but you have a bed, a place to store your things, and a private toilet and washing basin. The showers are in a shared space, but separated for privacy, with lockable doors.” The locks had been a new addition; they'd had the central bathing area before, but Selwyn had insisted they be made secure. Brienne knew it was to protect her. Her father was a man who chose kindness, but he wasn't ignorant of the evil humans could do. None of the earthers were. There were always a few bad seeds in even the most carefully cultivated gardens. 

“Why do you call us that?” Cersei asked. “ _Lost Ones_. Our ancestors left on purpose.” 

The sunrail car went quiet, and Brienne glanced at her father, letting him answer that loaded question. 

“They did,” he agreed easily. “But it doesn't mean they weren't lost and hurting when they left. It's the only explanation for how they could leave so many other humans behind to defend themselves against the indefensible.” 

“You seemed to have done well enough,” Jaime said dryly. He waved his hand around. “You live in a damned utopia now.” 

“No such thing as utopia,” Selwyn said. He was smiling, but his tone was heavy. “That indicates a state of perfection we imperfect humans can never reach. But we're striving for it, and that's what matters.” 

He held Jaime's stare, and it was Jaime who looked away first. Brienne felt a small, triumphant grin flit over her features and she looked down at her lap to hide it. They all sat in silence as the sunrail carried them on.

* * *

“I don't know about this,” Brienne said to her father later as they were walking through the gardens, finalizing their personal planting plan for the year. 

“I thought you liked cucumbers?” 

She laughed a little. “Not the cucumbers, Father, the Lannisters.” 

“Well, we can't plant them,” he said wryly, and she snorted. 

“Too bad. Might be able to grow a better attitude if we could.” 

“Tywin I'll give a pass to – I can't imagine what it would be like if I were in his situation. And Tyrion seems a decent fellow. Quick study, lots of enthusiasm.” 

“But the other two,” Brienne said, looking meaningfully at her father. He sighed, a low sound of agreement. 

“The other two. The daughter – Cersei? I'd hoped perhaps she'd be a friend for you, but it will take time for her to unwind a bit. I think she's trying to find her place here in this world. Maybe you can help with that.”

Brienne wasn't so sure. Some days she wasn't sure what _her_ place in this world was. 

“But Jaime,” Selwyn continued. “He's angry. Give him space, it'll do no good to try to talk him into staying here right now.” 

“Why would I want to talk him into staying here? He thinks we're going to dismantle the ships.” 

Selwyn eyed her carefully. “It doesn't matter what he thinks. He, like all the other Lost Ones, will be here for a year, and his ship will be waiting at the end of it if that's what he wants. As long as he's not hurting anything, let him sulk. He's got more reason than most for it.” 

They stopped under a drooping overhang of ivy. Selwyn reached up to tuck it back into the arched frame they were trailing it over.

“What reason could someone have to hate being off of those ships?” 

Her father kept looking up at the ivy. “I can't share the specifics, I'm afraid.” 

“Stewards only?” she asked. 

“Stewards only.” Selwyn tucked her hair behind her ear with the same care he'd just used on the plant. “Just trust me on this: the Lost Ones were truly lost, no matter what Cersei or any of the others tell you. Give them a chance to find themselves again. They've been away a long time.” He squeezed her arm and then started them moving once more. “Now, since you hate cucumbers all of a sudden--”

Brienne laughed and followed him into the warm afternoon.


	2. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One week after the Lost Ones settled in their new homes, it was time for the annual Spring Equinox festival. Brienne loved the festivals, though she only ever participated in a small portion of the activities. Their community welcomed diversity and uniqueness, but her love of the stars, her unusual size and face, her awkwardness in social situations – all were the kind of different that made her an easy target for the Rons of the world, no more so than when she was trying to fit in.

Brienne was fourteen when she got a second telescope. They were uncommon for domestic usage. Most earthers didn't see a need to spend their free time studying the vast expanse that half of humanity had left them for, busying themselves with work and art and connections on the ground. Some felt it disloyal to look elsewhere when so much had been lost to stay here. Others were afraid of space, of what might come out of the dark now that humanity had lit the flare and sent it into the universe. Three hundred years since the departure of the Lost Ones, and some still feared they'd come back dragging untold horrors with them. 

There were some earthers, though, that shared Brienne's yearning gaze and tipped-back chin. One of them, Jon Goodwin, was a friend of her father's, and it was he who got Brienne the replacement. 

She had wept furiously in the meadow the night she'd found it broken; both for the loss of another piece of her mother as well as her link to the stars. She knew it had to have been Ron who'd done it, but when she – dry-cheeked and clear-eyed – had taken the pieces to her father, she'd had no real proof. The community vēttirissaros would only gather, make sympathetic noises, and then decide there was nothing to be done without evidence. Perhaps if her father hadn't been on the cusp of being selected Steward of the Stormlands, she might have done something about it herself; but her only idea had been to break Ron's nose in an equal number of parts that her telescope had been broken, and she couldn't do that to her father. Not after the twins, after her mom, after Galladon. He had lost enough. 

Lack of a telescope didn't keep her from her fascination, though, and when Goodwin overheard her talking to her father about constellations one day, he'd come back the next with his own small telescope. 

“Jon,” Brienne's father had sighed when he'd seen it. “What are you doing?”

“Making a young girl happy,” Goodwin had said, and he had – teaching her what he knew even over the heavy exhalations of her father. 

“Why does he hate the stars so much?” Brienne asked one spring night when they were out in the meadow. The flowers had bloomed all at once this year, and though the color was dim in the dark, the smell was intense even though they stepped as carefully as they could to avoid smashing too many of the delicate petals beneath their feet. 

“He's Steward of the Stormlands, he doesn't have time for the skies.” 

Brienne frowned, squinting through the eyepiece. “He doesn't have time for anything, but it doesn't mean he dislikes all of it.”

“Why do you love it?” Goodwin asked, and Brienne straightened and narrowed her gaze. 

“Is this some sort of riddle so I'll understand him better?” 

Goodwin's mouth didn't smile, but his eyes did. “Perhaps.”

Her reasons weren't any clearer to herself at fourteen than they'd been at eleven. “I love that there's so much to discover,” she told her mentor. She wondered if that would have made Baldric understand better, though she'd never be able to find out: he'd died when he was twelve, his sickliness finally catching up to him. Even earther technology couldn't save everyone. 

“That is what your father hates about it.” 

Brienne sighed and bent over the telescope again, bringing the North star into focus. “I knew it was a riddle.”

* * *

Acclimation was slow, for Lost Ones and earthers alike. Brienne was too busy to see much of what was happening at other homes, but in hers, the Lannisters kept to themselves the first couple of days, emerging only for food and then to shuffle back to their rooms. All four of them seemed exhausted by the simple act of walking. Jaime had said they'd had gravity on the ships, but it hadn't been equivalent to the earth's natural g-forces. She thought they would have gotten used to it by now, but the stress of the transition to their new homes was enough to set even the healthiest individual back. 

Food added its own challenge. All of the Lost Ones' protein had either been soy-based or manufactured – there'd been no room on ships to support herds of cows or flocks of chickens. In quarantine, they'd eaten food from the ships, but now that they were out in the world, all the earthers had to offer was earth food. Tyrion spent an entire day hunched over his toilet after eating her father's carefully prepared seafood. Cersei had sworn off all meat-based protein, even eggs and dairy, based solely on the smell. Tywin took his food with a grim set to his mouth, but he ate all of it every time though he was gray around the cheeks at first. Jaime, of course, complained loudly, but seemed to eat all of his as well, apparently unaffected. 

Brienne extended them patience those first days, even when they didn't return it. She never considered any other response; they were just as lost here on earth as they had been among the stars. It was her duty to help them find their way.

* * *

One week after the Lost Ones settled in their new homes, it was time for the annual Spring Equinox festival. Brienne loved the festivals, though she only ever participated in a small portion of the activities. Their community welcomed diversity and uniqueness, but her love of the stars, her unusual size and face, her awkwardness in social situations – all were the kind of different that made her an easy target for the Rons of the world, no more so than when she was trying to fit in. 

There was plenty to do besides dancing and silly games, though. She helped the cooks gather ingredients for Tarth Fish Soup, the delicacy their protectorate brought to the feast; she was part of the YiTish fighting arts demonstration team with Master Pol; and, this year, she was helping her father count up the Lost Ones from their protectorate who wanted to go. 

“They should all go,” Brienne insisted, when her father laid out the requirements. 

“They're not all ready,” he said patiently. 

“How will they decide whether they want to stay here if they don't learn about where they're staying?”

Her father squeezed her shoulder. “It's been one week, Little Sun.” He still called her that even though she was an adult, and it was less sweet when he was using it like this. “They've plenty of time to learn. Now, gather the count, and then figure out how many shuttles we need to get them there.” 

Brienne sighed, but took the lightpad and did as he said. Her father had never been quiet about his desire that Brienne follow in his large footsteps; he'd been teaching her how to be a Steward since his first selection ten years ago. He'd be up for consideration again this winter, and how they handled the Lost Ones would weigh heavily in how it went. But her father was beloved, a renowned Steward in Westeros and beyond; she was sure he would be fine. 

In their own house, Tyrion, Tywin, and Cersei had agreed to go, but Jaime had laughed in her face. 

“No,” he said after she knocked at his room to ask. When he'd opened the door, Brienne had been momentarily struck anew by his handsomeness, the way his eyes burned like galaxies, before his sneer had brought her back to earth. 

“You're being hosted by the Steward of the Stormlands, you have to go,” she insisted. 

“Am I your prisoner?”

Brienne frowned at him. “No, you're our guest.” 

“Then I don't _have_ to do anything,” he said, and shut the door on her.

* * *

“You have four of these a year?” Tyrion asked, staring around curiously. 

“We do.” Brienne's father was off performing his responsibilities as Steward, so she was in charge of chaperoning the Lannisters around the festival. The Lannisters who had come, at least. She glared at the ground, remembering Jaime's smirk this morning when everyone else had been getting ready to go. Brienne had thought Jaime's father would step in and force him, but Tywin had just ignored his eldest son and talked quietly with Selwyn about the shuttles that would ferry them across the water to Storm's End. 

“Have fun,” Jaime had said with a sarcastic wave as they'd left the house. “I'll keep an eye on things here.” 

Brienne wouldn't be surprised if the house had burned to the ground when they returned. 

_It's better without him_ , she thought. In the week that the Lost Ones had been there, Jaime had been insufferable, ungrateful, and exactly as haughty as she'd feared. As she scanned the festival grounds now, she could imagine him making fun of each part of it. There were tables loaded down with delicacies from all over the Stormlands (“How do you know someone hasn't poisoned the food?” she heard him saying); an area of skills contests for the youth (“Very brave, shooting a stationary target”); and a craft area filled with lovingly handmade items for barter (“I'm sure those knit hats would protect someone from the freezing vacuum of space”). By the time they had wandered past the music and dancing, Brienne's hands were in fists and she only had a ghost to blame for it. 

The festival grounds were enormous, a lush valley spreading out at the foot of the crumbled ruins of the castle that used to stand guard here on the cliffside. Brienne's History of Earth classes had taught that the castles of old had seemed impregnable and infinite, but they, too, were a lesson that nature would always win in a fight, which was why earthers worked with the world and not against it. Each castle had been transformed into a wild preserve, and Storm's End was an aviary, loud with seabirds, the sky busy with their flight. It was a beautiful day, though the festival would have been held here even in rain, the weather adapted to as needed. 

“How do you arrange something of this size?” Tyrion asked. They were standing at the top of the hill leading to the ruins, the expanse of the festival laid out below them. Tywin had gone off with Selwyn, and Cersei had drifted off with her friends from the ships; Brienne had been happy to let her. Cersei didn't have Jaime's sullenness, but she lacked Tyrion's friendly interest, too. Brienne wasn't sure what to make of her so far; she was pleasant smiles and pointed barbs and Brienne didn't know which was more true. It was a relief to be up here with only Tyrion. Brienne never knew what to say around Cersei, and she always said too much when Jaime was there.

“I'm sure it was more difficult during the early years,” Brienne told him. “But it's been happening so long, it almost arranges itself now. We use this same space every time, and each of the Protectorates has their designated responsibilities, overseen by their Warden.” 

“There are a lot of layers of governance here for a people so intent on everyone being equal,” Tyrion said wryly. He had brought the hoverchair today, and was not too much shorter than her in it. 

They started back down the hill towards the festival. “After the Devastation, it wasn't like that. But we discovered we needed someone to shoulder the burden of making decisions. It had to be someone from the community, lifted up by them, not who grabbed the most power. That community focus is how the Wardens came about.”

“Why not stop at Wardens?”

“There's too many of them. The Stormlands alone has nearly thirty. Each region has their own, and then different continents have more. We couldn't get anything done that way, and no one wanted to break back into factions that competed with each other again. Earthers live locally, but we are very aware of the world. We remember what it was like to be cut off from each other when resources grew slim.” Brienne shrugged. “Nature has always had hierarchies, though. We're not doing anything special. The Stewards are not leaders so much as representatives of our collective voices and interests. They express that on our behalf, but with all earthers' well-being in mind in a way the Wardens do not. It's been this way for over a hundred and fifty years.” She gestured at the people chatting and laughing, the music floating on the gentle spring wind. “It's worked.”

“I'm not criticizing, merely trying to learn.” 

Brienne grimaced. “Sorry. The rest of your family isn't quite as taken with our world as you are.” 

“Jaime, you mean.” 

She glanced at Tyrion, found him smiling fondly. “Well... yes.” 

“My brother is an ass,” Tyrion said. He sounded almost cheerful. “Not to everyone, and not all the time, but enough. And he's been worse than usual here. I promise that he's not a bad person, no matter how much he pretends he is.” 

“If you say so,” she muttered. Tyrion chuckled.

* * *

“Beauty!” 

The call came from deep in the crowd where everyone was gathered to watch the final presentation of the festival. Her father would be speaking, saying goodbye to the winter, rousing everyone for a busy spring, noting any important news for the region. There was a large portion of his speech this year dedicated to the Lost Ones and welcoming them to earth. About half of the Lost Ones had attended. Several were sick, more were still acclimating, and the remaining small handful that had stayed behind seemed to share Jaime's disinterest in learning more about their new home. 

Brienne stared straight-ahead, not bothering to look where the voice had come from. 

“Brienne Tarth,” the man said more loudly. “Your Warden has a question for you.” People were starting to look around. She could feel all three of the Lannisters intently watching her. Brienne huffed and turned to face Tarth's Warden, Ron Connington, shoving through the crowd to get to her. 

She had barely believed it when he'd been selected for the position, had railed about it to her father and Goodwin for days afterward. Though he'd been less of an outright bully as they'd gotten older, there was still too much disdainful and petty about him. She didn't understand how the others had overlooked it to select him five years ago when he'd been nineteen and as full of himself as ever. The worst part was that he'd been just good enough of a Warden that he was likely to get re-elected again this winter. 

“What do you want, Ron?” she asked when he'd gotten nearer. 

“Can't an old friend say hello?” he said, smiling with too many teeth. 

“They can, but you're not an old friend.”

Ron's lips thinned. His real reason for coming over quickly made itself clear when he asked, “I haven't had a chance to meet your Lost Ones yet. As Tarth's Warden, I want to get to know all of them.”

Ron had not volunteered to host a Lost One family, which Brienne had thought was probably for the best. She felt even more certain about it when he leered at Cersei. 

“These are the Lannisters,” she said, hoping it would be enough and knowing it wouldn't be. 

“A pleasure,” Ron said to Cersei. He gave her the open-palmed welcome, smiling ingratiatingly up at her from under red eyebrows. 

Cersei gave Ron a thorough once-over from head to feet and back again, lifted one eyebrow, and said, “I'm sure it is.” 

Brienne liked Cersei a little better after that.

* * *

Planting time was one of Brienne's favorite parts of spring. Those that had the capability for it would gather and work side-by-side in the sun and spring rains according to the plans that the Wardens had hashed out with their community. For all of Ron's many failings, he had a knack for organizing planting season, and he was always one of the first to arrive on planting days, and often one of the last to leave. 

But he'd never beaten Brienne to the fields until this year.

“You have to go,” she said from just outside Cersei's door. 

“Why? I don't know anything about farming. The sun is barely up.” 

“It's been up for well over an hour,” Brienne said. “Normally I'd already be there.” 

“You're welcome to leave without me.” 

Brienne sighed, then heard a low chuckle from behind her. She turned to find Jaime leaning against the wall, watching her with amusement. For their first weeks on earth, he'd stuck to the clothes he'd brought with him from the ship – utilitarian jumpsuits, mostly, in dark colors. Today he was dressed for the fields in the clothes Brienne had gathered for all of them: tan canvas pants, a white cotton shirt with a light jacket on top, sturdy boots. Everything fit his frame like it was glad to be worn by him. Brienne looked back at Cersei's door. 

“What do you want?” she asked Jaime. 

“You may as well give up,” he said. “Cersei doesn't believe in doing work before lunch.” 

“This is how it is. All who can, do.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jaime push off of the wall and saunter closer. He'd taken a shower recently; she could smell their soap. “Before noon, Cersei cannot.” 

He still sounded like the whole thing was a lark, not the work that would keep them all fed through the year. Brienne turned, frowning at him. “You may not have had to do any real work before, but on earth we don't have a choice.”

Jaime's jaw tightened, and he didn't look amused any longer. “Real work? Tyrion told me all about your planting machines, your giant automated greenhouses and watering technology. Do you even know how to get water when you're in space? It's not just figuring out irrigation from a river.” 

She had wondered about that and more when the Lost Ones had made first contact, but she hadn't wanted to bring it up with them so soon after they'd left the ships, before they'd had a chance to settle. Her curiosity now warred with her embarrassment and pride, and she folded her arms over her chest and straightened fully. She was taller than Jaime, at least. He may have been able to use his looks against her, but height was her weapon in this fight. 

“Tell me about it, then,” she prodded him, and he tilted his head a little, the amusement back in spades. 

“I don't think I will, Comet.”

“What did you call me?”

Jaime smiled insincerely. “Keep at Cersei if you want. I'll see you in the fields,” he said, ignoring her question as he continued past her to the front room. 

Brienne glared at his back, then at Cersei's door, and then at the empty space where Jaime had been, before following after him.

* * *

“Why did you call me that earlier?” she asked Jaime later that day, as they sweated near each other in their assigned greenhouse. It was a huge space, with solar windows on the ceiling that could be dimmed and opened as needed for the crops below. The fields buzzed with the low chatter of workers, the occasional laugh or shout across the way for a needed tool. The walls curved in pleasant, light brown waves around them. 

Jaime rubbed his forearm across his forehead, leaving a smear of dirt behind, and glanced around the area with watchful eyes, just like he did every ten minutes. He'd lost his jacket long ago, and his shirt clung to his torso in damp patches. Brienne looked much the same, though she knew it didn't suit her nearly as well. Jaime's cheeks were beautifully flushed, the perspiration a glimmering sheen. Brienne looked like she'd been in a fight with an asteroid and lost. 

“Call you what?” he asked, distracted by two teenagers playfully shoving each other. 

“Comet,” she reminded him tersely. “In the hallway.” 

“Oh,” he said, smirking as he turned his attention to her. “It's that pale skin and freckles of yours. Like a giant ball of dirty ice.” 

Brienne glared at him, but he only lifted one shoulder in an unconcerned shrug and pointed his trowel at her. “You asked, Comet.” 

They knelt down again and he spluttered when she shoveled dirt too aggressively and it flew into his face. Brienne didn't apologize.

* * *

Much to Brienne's surprise, Jaime showed up every day for planting season work. He waited for her in the front room each morning, dressed and ready, having gotten coffee and breakfast only for himself. Tyrion went with Selwyn and Tywin to oversee the activities and problem-solve, and Cersei slept in late, showed up after lunch, and went home early after putting in an hour or two of time. 

Brienne didn't entirely blame Cersei for not wanting to hang around; Ron was still fascinated by her, and as Warden he was able to work wherever he wanted, which meant he was always next to Cersei. Brienne would watch him when Cersei arrived at the fields, the way he'd hover near, waiting for a scrap of Cersei's attention. Brienne had never seen Ron act so submissively towards anyone before, though Cersei seemed almost entirely unaware of his presence unless he was actively talking to her. 

“Why doesn't she tell him to leave her alone?” she asked Jaime a week into it, as they were taking a break. A steady rain pattered on the windows overhead; Jaime kept glancing up at it with an inscrutable expression on his face. 

Jaime looked over at Cersei and her Lost One friends talking quietly, the way Ron orbited around the edge of their conversation, and his mouth pulled into a tight smile. 

“My dear sister loves the attention, as long as it's harmless.”

“Ron's not harmless,” Brienne said, and Jaime lifted an eyebrow curiously. 

“Sounds like there's a story there.” He took a drink of nutrient shake from his thermos and watched her, expectant. 

“Not one that you need to know,” she said, capping her own thermos. “Break's over.”

* * *

“Cersei, do you have a minute?” Brienne asked that evening as the household dissipated to their rooms after dinner. The Lannisters had at least started joining Brienne and her father for meals, though they were still mostly quiet affairs, except when Tyrion started asking questions. Fortunately, he had many, and they seemed to multiply the more he asked. 

Cersei would sometimes cut in with a sharp observation or an offhand remark, Tywin would mostly direct his few comments to Selwyn, and Jaime would eat quickly and in silence before disappearing to his room again. Brienne had no idea what he did in there, though he had access to the same library of books and entertainment every earther citizen did. 

She was more familiar with what Cersei did, mostly because Cersei always felt compelled to announce it.

“I told you, I'm going to Taena's earther home,” Cersei said. “Must we talk now?”

“It'll be quick.” 

Cersei sighed and gestured for Brienne to follow her. “Fine, but I have to get ready while we talk. What is it?” 

“I-it's about Ron Connington,” Brienne started, and then stopped when she followed Cersei into her room. She'd seen the space before the Lannisters had moved in, but not since, and she was impressed at how thoroughly Cersei had made it her own. There were clothes – both provided by earthers and brought from space – flung over the few pieces of furniture, a lightpad nearly falling off the small bedside shelf by her pillow, and a surprising amount of knick-knacks. Brienne picked up one nearby, a small lion caught mid-roar, carved out of lustrous red-colored wood. “Did you get this at the festival?” she asked. 

Cersei glanced at the figure, distracted, and then returned to her consideration of what to wear. “One of your earther boys gave it to me there. Said it came from some special wood you have here? I didn't catch his name.” She held up a shirt and then threw it back down. “What about Ron?”

Brienne set the figure back down. Weirwood was bone white, but some artists used the red sap to make stunningly colored materials for carved art such as the lion Cersei cared so little for. They were, in the earther economy, valuable pieces for the amount of effort it took to make them. If someone had given Brienne something like that, she would have been overwhelmed. 

“Hello? Brienne?”

Brienne blinked and dragged her finger along the lion's back one last time, before meeting Cersei's impatient gaze. “You know Ron is the Warden of our protectorate?” Cersei nodded. “He... has not always been a good man. I'm not convinced he is one now. I think you should be careful about how you interact with him.” 

“Are you warning me about how to handle a man?” Cersei said, looking oddly gleeful. “Do you have a lot of experience with men, then?” 

“N-no.” Brienne flushed. “But I do know Ron,” she continued firmly. “And you don't. I just don't want you to think he's... harmless.” 

Cersei swept her hair up into an elegant, loose bun with an ease that Brienne was startled by. She'd never been able to do anything like that with her own hair. “Did Jaime put you up to this?” Cersei said, catching Brienne's eye in the mirror. 

“Jaime had nothing to do with this. I'm just trying to help.” 

“What a devoted thing you are, protecting your Lost One ducklings,” Cersei cooed in a too-sweet voice. Brienne grit her teeth. “Consider me warned. Now, on your way unless you have fashion advice for me as well. I'm sure you have many remarkable opinions about the latest plant-based earther-wear.” 

Head down, Brienne hurried from Cersei's room, and nearly collided with Jaime coming out of his own. His reflexes catching her were lightning-fast, one hand steadying her on her shoulder, the other going to his hip where he grabbed at the air. He frowned at his hand when it came up empty.

“Slow down there, Comet,” he said. “Come from the lion's den, I see.” He gestured with his chin at Cersei's door, then scanned her face. “No noticeable wounds.” 

His grip was strong and warm. She jerked away. “I was just telling her about Ron.” 

“How noble of you,” he drawled. 

“At least I'm trying to help her! She's not even my sister.” 

“That's right,” Jaime said, his voice firm and impenetrable as stone. “She's not. And I'm not your brother. And we're not your little family to take care of. This is just a waystation we're stopping at for the year and all of your festivals and dinners aren't going to change that.”

“You didn't want to come here at all, did you?” Brienne asked, and his green eyes flashed with something as dangerous and fierce as lightning. 

“No.” The word was a thunderclap. “If I could, I'd already be gone.”

That hurt more than anything he'd said, as though she'd failed all of earth by not convincing him to stay already. It felt personal in a way his silly nickname and his slicing asides never did. 

As he turned away she blurted out, “Why bother to help with the planting, then, if you're so set on leaving?” 

Jaime hesitated. “It gets boring being stuck in my room, and I don't feel much like wandering around your wild little world while being stared at and assessed and distrusted at every turn. Besides, if I didn't go, who would be there to keep an eye on _you_ , Comet?” 

“I don't need you to do anything for me,” she said between clenched teeth. 

He smiled, brittle and bitter. “Don't worry, I won't.”

* * *

Brienne spent most of her non-planting time talking to Tyrion, showing him around, engaging him in the work to be done to keep their living zone habitable. 

“How do you make sure everything gets finished?” he asked her as they were helping a neighbor clean up their overgrown gardening terraces. Her neighbors were older and needed the help of younger arms to weed and trim and plant. 

“The Warden takes requests from the community. Those with the appropriate areas of expertise step up. We answer the call as we're able.” 

“What about calls that go unanswered?” he asked, and Brienne sat back on her heels, staring across the row of flowers they were tending. 

“They don't,” she said, confused. “Why would they?”

“Petty jealousies, lack of time or interest, humans being human.” Tyrion waved his hand vaguely in the air. “I distinctly recall your father telling us this _wasn't_ utopia.” 

“It's not. But making sure the work of our community gets done isn't utopia. It's how we live.” 

“I see.” He considered her, his normally lively features serious. “What happened here, all those centuries ago?” 

Brienne stared down at the soil, so dark it was almost black, the flowers cheerful spots in the earth, like a row of colorful stars in the night sky. “The Devastation happened. There are few records from that time that survived, but we have enough to know we never want to go through it again. Humanity faced the edge of extinction, and we pulled ourselves back. But it leaves a mark, like... a volcanic eruption. The volcano might be long-dormant, but the memory of it remains in the trees and the earth.” She looked up at Tyrion again, and he nodded once, slowly. 

“We left you all to die.” 

“ _You_ didn't,” she said automatically, hearing her father's voice in her head. 

“Our ancestors, then. But you welcomed us back anyway.” He smiled softly. “Are you sure this isn't utopia?” 

Brienne forced herself to grin. “There would be less mosquitoes if there were,” she said, slapping an eager one on her arm. 

Tyrion laughed and climbed back to his feet. “What else is on our list? I don't want to be responsible for any work left incomplete. How would that look – a Lost One corrupting an innocent earther?” 

“I'm not that innocent,” she muttered, standing, too, and leading him to the next task.

* * *

Near the end of spring, the weather was already starting to turn sweltering, even at night. It was shaping up to be a warmer-than-average year already; Brienne was dreading the middle of summer. The living zones were well-ventilated, with air funneled through the carefully-architected spaces to provide the most cooling with the least effort, the offset heat providing energy to run it. But there was only so much that could be done on hot nights, and Brienne had never been good at regulating her own temperature. Her father said her mother had been like that, too, though Brienne hadn't been old enough to remember it herself. 

She lay in bed, sweating and miserable in the middle of the night, before finally giving up and creeping to the shared bathing space. A shower would help, and then she could drip her way back to her room and sleep through the night. 

After hanging her clothes – a light tank-top and a thin pair of shorts – from the door hanger, she stepped into the shower and sighed in relief at the cool fall of water over her head and down her body. Her father and Tywin were gone again, off for a regular check-in on the status of the Lost Ones; she would see about taking at least Tyrion out to tour some of Tarth's museums tomorrow. There was a lull in work right now, before harvesting began in earnest, and she was tired of hanging around the house, chaperoning. Cersei was gone as often as she was home, always out with her Lost One friends and one or two earthers, and Jaime lounged around, snarky and laughing one minute, glaring and sullen the next. There were moments she thought he might be thawing, but they were always immediately whisked away when he made some snide remark. 

Brienne was fuming over a remembered comment he'd said just that morning when she heard the door to the bathing space open. 

“Hello?” She glanced at her stall door. She'd left it unlocked, certain she wouldn't need it. “Who's there?” 

The main door closed again, and Jaime said, “It's just me, Comet.” 

“Why are you taking a shower in the middle of the night?” she asked, her voice bouncing high and nervous around the area. The stalls were walled in floor-to-ceiling on three sides, but the doors were not. They were tall enough not even her father could stand up to see over them, but they didn't go all the way to the ground; it helped keep mildew down and the temperature of the space self-adjusted, helped people see which ones were full with a quick glance. It had never bothered Brienne to have the visibility until this moment. Jaime's feet walked near her door and stopped far enough way she could just barely see the tips of his sandals. 

“Probably for the same reason you are: it's fucking hot. Should I leave?”

_Yes_ , she thought. _Go be hot somewhere else._ But it was spiteful and she was trying not to be, so instead she only said, “They're communal showers.” 

His feet disappeared again and she exhaled loudly. The stall next to her opened, and she heard the water turn on. Jaime's unholy moan of pleasure floated out a moment later. Goosebumps prickled along her arms. 

“Just what I needed,” he said, his voice echoing. “I thought you all would be better at temperature control.” 

“It's not a ship,” she unnecessarily reminded him. “We can't turn down the sun.” 

“Pity. I guess that's one point for us, then.” 

“It's not a competition.” 

“Yes it is,” he said, his voice low and serious. “We're almost out of soap over here. Need to fill it up. Put that on your list.” 

Brienne stared up at the ceiling and very firmly did not picture Jaime naked and wet and soapy in the stall next to her. She had seen his body at work in the fields, around their house as he lounged, one time when she'd stumbled on him exercising under an overhang in the garden, but he'd always been clothed. It wasn't hard to imagine the golden skin of his arms down his chest, over his taut stomach, and lower still. 

She shoved her head under the water and turned it colder, gasping when it hit her. 

“Everything okay over there?” he asked, and she hoped she was imagining the knowing tone. 

“I'm fine,” she snapped. He might be unbearably beautiful, but he was also unbearable. She turned off the shower and yanked on her clothes. She hadn't even brought a towel, knowing the heat would dry her soon enough, but as her shirt stuck to her chest, showing off the lines and very slight curves of her body, she wished now that she had. 

Jaime's shower shut off, too, and she bit back an annoyed groan. Now she either had to wait for him to get out first, or hope that she could escape from the bathing space before he emerged. He still had to dress, so she opted for the latter. A quick scan of the stall to make sure she hadn't left anything out-of-place, and then she opened the door.

Jaime's opened a half-second later. He stepped out at the same time she did, wearing only a pair of shorts that hung low and loose at his hips. His skin – looking exactly as she'd pictured it – was still glistening with water, his golden hair dark. Whatever physical difficulties they'd been through those first few days on earth, Jaime had suffered no apparent ill effects. When her eyes met his, he grinned, but there was none of his usual ease as his gaze skimmed her body. She had the sudden, unbidden image of running her palms down his sides, feeling the bump of muscle and ribs. The heat that had been pooling low surged up and over her cheeks. 

“You don't look much cooler,” he said, smirking. 

“It-- it's hot,” she stammered. 

“Should we get back in the shower, then?” 

_We_. Brienne took a slow, unsteady breath. “No, t-to bed. Separately.” She winced at how ridiculous she sounded. 

Jaime smiled slyly at her, and she wished she could stay in the shower for the rest of the Lost Ones' year on earth until he was gone. 

“If you insist,” was all he said, before turning and leaving her there, burning hotter by far than when she'd arrived. 

She got back in the shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used this High Valyrian translator (https://lingojam.com/EnglishtoValyrianTranslator) to come up with “vēttirissaros,” which means “law person.” If they're truly a multicultural society, I figured some language would be shared, too. 
> 
> The greenhouses [look like this](https://agforum-media.s3.dualstack.us-east-2.amazonaws.com/original/2X/a/a7c51b569b9a837f6af0daff6b883155f671bd6a.jpeg).


End file.
